Sense and Sensitivity
by Alina Seine
Summary: A family incident with Queen Amidala and her sister.


Disclaimer: Star Wars belongs to George Lucas, and that's all I have to say on that subject.  
  
Rating: G, I think  
  
Summary: A family incident with Queen Amidala and her sister, Amara.  
  
Sense and Sensitivity  
  
By: Alina Seine  
  
Politics has been in my family for as long as I can remember. My mother worked in the Senate until she died a few years ago, as did my grandmother. My father was a Senator, and after that, chief advisor to the former ruler of Naboo. Then I was elected as the queen of Naboo, and shortly after that memorable night of rejoicing, my father too, died. Only my sister and I are left now. My sister Amara.   
  
Amara was always the big boss around the house. When I was younger, and my parents were at some Senate meeting or other, Amara would always try to be your typical mother, except she would completely botch the job by making me go to bed by 08:00, and brush my teeth herself, despite my efforts to pry her off. Then her schooling brought her more and more away from home, which was a relief to me. My parents expected me to behave myself while they were gone, which I did, and I was spitefully glad I could do so without Amara's help. Then Amara got accepted to a university, somewhere close to the Meridian Sector. That's where she went for years without coming home. I didn't mind horribly when she left, and got used to not having her around. In fact, she was still studying as a diplomat on Agamar, when I was elected as my planet's ruler.   
  
Then one Christmas, Amara decided to come home. Because I was I her sister, I did the charitable thing and invited Amara to stay at the Palace. Naturally, as the queen's sister, Amara deserved such small honors as having meals with me and so on. I gave her the large room next to my own, and we often changed to nightclothes at night in the combo bathroom on the other side of my room, which included two large bath showers, two sinks, and lots handy little knick-knacks and accessories that made life easier.   
  
That's where the cutting little comments got started. I didn't ever remember Amara being sardonic, but she most certainly was that now. "So Your Majesty," She would say in a slightly sarcastic tone, "how goes ruling the planet?"  
  
"Oh, it's alright," I replied lightly, "we're currently requesting something of the Jedi Knights, waiting for the answer. It's top secret, so I'm sorry I can't tell you."  
  
"Oh sure. Real hush-hush stuff. You get it easy, you know. You ask for something and it's done immediately. You probably didn't even write that request for whatever it was, by yourself. I mean, get a peek at the real world by having a look at my dorm. It's got a state-of-the-art outhouse, even includes toilet seats on the toilets, and water in the sinks."  
  
"I did in fact write that request myself, and sent it myself," I said, somewhat icily, "I may live be Queen and live in the Theed Palace, but I *am* self reliant."  
  
"Well, no need to get all defensive about it," she answered airily. What did she figure me to be, a spoiled little girl, who still didn't understand that life is tough? A pretty little figure that just got elected by sheer chance? I seriously doubted that she was very   
far along in her diplomatic studies, even after all those years, if she was still at the point when she hadn't even gotten the speaking etiquette down pat.   
  
My politician's mind found those cutting remarks easy to ignore at first. They were from a sister who hadn't seen me in years, and God knew what rumors about me flew around out there. But soon, those little remarks, those comments, started to get at me. Being called a pretty-girl, and Miss Queen-of-all-she-surveys in a private dressing room is something I can cope with. Having your handmaidens derided, then being called Queen-of-all-she-surveys in a public dining room is a totally different story.   
  
On the night of Christmas Eve, we were in the bathroom changing, as usual, I to a white velvet nightgown, and Amara to a red flannel one. "Nice gown, Ami," Amara remarked, glancing at the lace trimmed hem, "In fact, it's so nice, you could wear it in public. You'd certainly cut a nice figure in that with a halo over your head and sprig of holly in your hair. The perfect angel queen, I'd say." Although this comment wasn't so meanly sarcastic as usual. It was Amara's tone that cut that last crucial nerve thread. Angry tears welled up into my eyes, and they weren't missed by my sister's critic's eye. "Oh, did I hurt dear little Ami's feelings?" she said, derisively.  
  
I didn't care about being cool and diplomatic anymore. My eyes narrowed, and an angry glare engulfed my expression, as I rose to my full height. "My name is Amidala," I hissed, "and in case you hadn't noticed, I'm not the lisping little nine-year-old girl you left years ago. I haven't been re-elected recently as this planet's ruler because I'm a Senator's brat, or because of that prettiness that you seem to admire so much. I work long and hard for my people, Amara, and I don't appreciate that work being degraded to what you perceive it to be." As a young politician, I let my tone and words and not the volume of my voice do its work.   
  
Amara simply continued buttoning her nightgown, and replied, "Your People, is it Highness?" She looked up long enough to cast a scathing glance at me. "Get a grip, Ami." I turned my back on her and left the room before I could yield to the un-diplomatic urge to spit in Amara's face, going to the safety of my own room and bed. I flung myself under the covers where the hot tears began to sear my cheeks and soak the sheets. In a few hours, the planet would be celebrating Christmas. Wasn't it rather ironic that their Queen was crying?  
  
On Christmas morning, I realized I hadn't gotten Amara's Christmas gift. *Glad of it too*, I thought bitterly. Then I found a card someone had slipped under my door. It looked as if they'd had a bit of a hassle doing it too, because the slit under the door was VERY thin. As it turned out, the card was from Amara. She had taken her leave early in the morning. She wrote:  
  
Dear Amidala,  
  
Merry Christmas and all that stuff. Sorry, budget was low, couldn't get you a present. But I have a question. How did you manage to learn all the tricks of politics in so little time? You were barely fourteen when you were elected as Queen, and I just sort of thought it was because of Father; you were always seen with him, and everybody would say to me what a pretty girl you were. I've been years at this university, and I still can't pass a diplomat's test. Think you can help? Write back, you know where to contact me. Thanks, and happy holidays, if such a thing is possible...  
  
  
-Amara  
  
The letter took me by surprise, and I just sat there staring at it for several seconds. Then I laughed with relief. All those snide comments had been because Amara was jealous!i turned the card to look at its cover. It was myself, in my white velvet nightgown, with a sprig of holly in my hair, and a halo over my head! She was right, from the looks of me, I did seem a little bit like a spoiled little queenie. But it just goes to say: "Never judge a book chip by its opening projection." Grinning, I grabbed a surplus card from a stack, and began my reply:  
  
Dear Amara,  
  
Happy holidays to you too, which IS possible. I didn't get a gift for you either, and you even had a better reason than me: I just completely forgot. So about your question. Well see, politics runs in the family...  
  
  
The end.  
  
  
  



End file.
